Klaine Advent Challenge 2014
by BlurtItAllOut
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles throughout the Klaine Advent Challenge 2014. I didn't start until December 7th, and can't promise I'll manage to write each day, but I'll do my best.
1. 7 Grace

**Hello everybody! I decided all of a sudden today, that I wanted to join the Klaine Advent challenge this year. I don't know if I'll be able to write for each day, but I thought it could be a fun exercise for me to write something quick and short, in just one day, by being given a single word to work from. So I'll gather my Advent drabbles here. They might be both canon and AU, but I will let you know before each one in case of spoilers.**

**So let's start with December 7th, the word being Grace, and this is alternative first meeting.**

* * *

Central Park may be Kurt's favourite New York-cliché. He knows from years of experience what a tourist trap it is, but Central Park also belongs to New Yorkers. After six years in the city, Kurt likes to think he moves around as if he belongs here, and is beyond the wide-eyed and naïve Lima-teenager he once was.

Now and then, he indulges in a leisurely stroll in the park, taking time from a busy schedule to breathe in the green lung – or white, at this time of year. Christmas is within reach, but still too far away with how homesick he's been lately. He hasn't seen his dad or Carole in months, but in two weeks' time he'll be on a plane to Ohio.

Maybe he's sentimental, but the sound of Christmas music makes him stop by the skating rink. It isn't too crowded out there, but he's wearing too tight jeans for any acrobatic achievements today. He should try to cajole Rachel to join him this weekend. On a whim, he decides to splurge on a spectator ticket, which also gives him the opportunity to buy a large cup of hot chocolate and a small bag of burned almonds. It's almost Christmas, after all. When he's seated on a not too dirty bench, he extricates his phone from his pocket, takes a quick selfie with the goodies, and sends it to Rachel to start enticing her.

Finally settled comfortably, allowing himself to spend half an hour doing nothing – something remarkable considering the pace he usually keeps – his sight drifts across the ice, people-watching and taking in those enjoying themselves in this particular way today.

He may consider himself a New Yorker by now, but you can't entirely extricate the Ohio out of the boy, so his heart stutters pleasantly when he notices two men skating together with a girl between them. Kurt isn't used to kids, none of his friends have any of their own yet, but he guesses the child is maybe four or five. She has pigtails the same colour as the taller man's hair, and Kurt briefly wonders if he's the biological father. Her dress isn't exactly suited for this, and she has wet spots on the knees of her light tights, revealing she's fallen at least once. The shorter man smiles at the girl, his daughter, and lets go of her hand to skate backwards, saying something that makes her let go of her other dad's hand, and trying on her own, again. The taller man films them with his phone.

With a smile gracing his face, Kurt watches the trio with a fond expression. One day. One day that'll be him. He wouldn't mind a little girl or boy either down the road, even if he currently is longing for a boyfriend. It's been long enough since his last breakup that his heart has healed, so long that he misses all the wonderful elements of being in a loving relationship, and so long that he's forgotten every way his ex annoyed him.

The tallest man is a decent enough skater, and keeps close to the child, ready to help her whenever she loses balance. The shorter man is who captures Kurt's attention, though. He glides on the ice without a trace of effort, and Kurt could bet good money that the man must have some training in dancing with the way he holds his body and has control over his movements. He spins around the girl and his partner, making swirls and pirouettes that makes the child giggle loudly, and Kurt laughs with her. Even if the man is simply entertaining and encouraging his daughter to let go on the ice, he oozes grace and elegance. He may be on the shorter side, but his posture and movements capture attention, and he owns that ice rink, he fills it and reaches out to his audience of one Kurt Hummel.

The little girl tugs at her taller dad's coat, and he squats down to talk with her. She is speaking with her entire body, and points dramatically towards the little stand where Kurt bought his hot liquid and candy. The man laughs, gets up, and gestures to his partner. Boyfriend, husband? They are both wearing gloves. As if Kurt could have spotted rings from this distance, anyway. It's just something about watching married gay couples that warms his heart a little bit more, after so many years and decades of fighting for equal rights.

The other man nods and waves, and as the child and her taller dad skate slowly towards the exit, the shorter man takes one last lap around the rink, as if he still has more fun and movement eager to get out through his toes and skates. Kurt follows him with his eyes, as if he's watching a spectacular show on Broadway. It's a particular satisfaction in observing someone creating art simply with their body just like that. The man ends the lap by leaping fairly high into the air doing a split. Beautiful, graceful art.

It doesn't take long for him to catch up with his family, and they walk carefully closer to where Kurt is sitting. He feels like such a stalker, but he can't stop observing them, and he's waiting for them to come even closer. He just wants to know how they look. He just wants to learn the face of the artful skater.

They are now so close that Kurt can hear them talking, even if he can't decipher the words yet. And with a skipped heartbeat and blood flooding his face, he realizes that he may be a persistent stalker, but he's a terrible fanboy. Who manages to observe their teenage celebrity-crush for half an hour, without recognizing him? Kurt would hit himself, if it wouldn't undoubtedly draw unwanted attention. He knows this is a once in a lifetime-opportunity, and his younger self would be so disappointed in his future version if he didn't embrace this stroke of luck. So he dives into his satchel for his sketchbook and a pen, before approaching the trio now sitting on a bench further away, with their snack purchases.

"I'm sorry to disturb," Kurt squeaks, and clears his voice to sound more like the grown up man he likes to think he is. "Mr. Cooper Anderson, it's such a good surprise to find you here. I'm a huge fan; I have been ever since your career started with the free credit rating-commercials."

"No worries, my good man," Mr. Anderson grins, and from the corner of his eyes Kurt can see the other man rolling his eyes. And he realizes he's never heard or read any words about Cooper Anderson being gay. He's always been open and including, but his limit has been drawn by his family life, so nobody has ever spotted him on a confirmed date. There have been speculations about his sexuality, after numerous accounts of positive and supporting statements from the actor to the LGBTQ-community, and he even openly criticized a minister who refused to office a wedding ceremony between two women, even if that state had legalized marriage equality five years prior.

"Would you like my autograph?" Mr. Anderson offers, and Kurt blushes, agreeing a little too readily. But the actor smiles earnestly at him, and with a graceful swoop signs his name across the entire page in Kurt's favourite sketchbook.

"You looked amazing out there, really… graceful," Kurt lamely compliments the younger man, because his skating had been breathtaking. So he decides to tell him so. "I couldn't keep my eyes off of you, you have the grace of a true dancer," he admits.

Up close, the man is even more striking, with eyes Kurt could drown in. He looks familiar somehow, and Kurt wonders if he may have seen paparazzi shots of the two of them together before. But he's not that kind of fanboy. He's not the one who snoops in the personal lives of celebrities. He just interrupts in their midday midweek family date.

"Thank you," the man smiles sincerely, and ducks his head briefly. "It's nice of you to notice," he blushes, and Cooper The Actor Anderson playfully shoves him.

"Aww, Baby-B stole my limelight," he teases.

"It was impossible not to," Kurt blurts out, and blindly accepts his belongings from the actor. "But I won't interfere with your family outing anymore. Thank you for your kindness," he smiles shyly, and waves awkwardly at the little girl as he backs away. He clutches the sketchbook between his crossed arms and chest, and he thinks that damn, that's one lucky girl. Regardless of which of the two men are her biological daughter, she has some stunning looks to inherit.

Kurt is still debating if he wants to hang around some more, or if his stalker tendencies have had their fill and he should head home, when someone grabs his shoulder.

"Excuse me?" a voice he recognizes prevents him from leaving. Kurt turns slowly around, wondering what Cooper Anderson wants with him. "I know this seems really weird, but would you mind accepting this twenty, and buy two hot chocolates to share with my brother? He's horribly bad at flirting with cute men, so I'm his dedicated, self-appointed wingman."

"Brother?" Kurt asks dumbly, and Cooper nods towards his daughter, where the graceful skater is hiding his face in his hands. "Brother?" Kurt repeats. Aren't they happily in love and have a daughter together?

"Yes, Squirt is my little brother, but don't call him that, it's my special nickname for him, brother's privilege and all, you know," the actor grins.

It's an understatement to say that Kurt is confused, but he's not one to decline free hot chocolate, so in a daze he accepts the money, executes the purchase, and hesitantly approaches the young man, who looks like he'd prefer if the ice suddenly melted and swept him away on a cold wave. Cooper is back on the ice with his daughter (or whoever the child is to him, Kurt doesn't trust any of his assumptions anymore).

"So this is a tad presumptuous, but I hope you'd like one more hot chocolate," Kurt feigns nonchalance, but is exposed by how he's chewing his bottom lip.

"I'm so sorry my brother is being a weirdo!" the young man apologizes wideeyed, but accepts the paper cup.

"So he _is_ your brother?"

"Yes. Unfortunately."

"And you _are_ gay?" Kurt asks carefully.

"Yes. Fortunately," he smiles shyly, looking at Kurt through his eyelashes.

"And to think your brother said you're bad at flirting," Kurt laughs.

"Blaine," the young man offers, extending a hand. Flattered and impressed by the gesture, Kurt accepts his hand, shaking it gracefully and gives his own name.

"So is this a common thing, your brother setting you up with random men?"

"Not as often as you'd think, but still more frequently than I appreciate," Blaine sighs.

"I can go," Kurt offers softly. "You don't have any obligations to me."

"No, please stay," Blaine rests a hand on his wrist. "At least these days he has the decency to only hijack the guys he understands I'm attracted to, and not just anyone who might be gay."

"So he understood your… instant attraction to me?" Kurt laughs, and laughs even more thrillingly at the sight of Blaine's blush.

"I may have been unable to keep silent about how stunningly gorgeous you are," Blaine admits with a groan.

"You, my good sir, is very good at this flirting thing," Kurt chuckles, nudging him playfully with his shoulder.

"You're one to talk. As if your compliment back there was generic and off-handedly," Blaine nudges back.

"Okay, so I think we've established that we're equally terrific or terrible at flirting. Now what?"

"We could go for a walk?" Blaine suggests, and with a hand gestures at the park in large, outside the skating rink. So they do that, after some quick texting to let his brother know where he disappeared.

They've been dating for almost two weeks, when Kurt finally connects the dots. Cooper Anderson's brother is obviously Blaine Anderson, the star of the latest Broadway production, so captivating that Kurt's already seen the performance twice.

Blaine smiles gracefully when Kurt admits what a terrible fanboy he is, but adds playfully:

"At least I know you didn't accept my brother's arranged date because of who I am."

"Nah. I accepted because of who _he_ is," Kurt winks back. Blaine sticks his tongue out, Kurt scoops up a wad of snow to make a ball, and soon they're running through Central Park throwing snow at each other.


	2. 6 Fall

**Prompt December 6th: Fall**

**This is a future-fic, with no spoilers beyond the boys living together in New York, set some time post-graduation.**

* * *

Kurt's been observing his fiancé silently, watching him fold clothes carefully before placing them in his biggest suitcase. His shoulders are raised to his ears, and there's a tension in his back. He hasn't looked in Kurt's direction the entire time he's been standing in the doorway, but focusing on his task – walking between the wardrobe stand and the bed where his suitcase is. Almost half of Blaine's clothes are already removed from the stand. Kurt doesn't know if Blaine's gone through their dresser yet.

"Blaine, please talk to me?" he sighs.

Blaine shakes his head stubbornly, and Kurt can't be sure if that's a sniff he hears. That's it. With a few long strides he closes the distance between them. He wraps his arms under Blaine's, cupping his shoulders, and leans against him until his chest and Blaine's back are merged.

"You don't have to do this. Not now. Not ever."

"It's inevitable, Kurt, and you know it," Blaine says shortly, still trying to fold a pair of baby blue capris even with Kurt clinging to him.

"It doesn't have to be," Kurt insists. "We can find a solution to make this work, without feeling choked or crowded."

"Kurt," Blaine says, and there's a clear tone of warning in his voice. "I saw the weather forecast. Summer is officially over. It's time to say goodbye to these lovelies, and get the winter clothes out of storage."

"But it always breaks your heart to leave the clothes you love. The sun is still warming outside."

"There will be a drop in temperature by almost 15 degrees over the weekend. My ankles will be cold," Blaine mutters petulantly. "And who knows if I'll ever use these again. Maybe I'll get fat, like I did during my cronut crazy after I moved to New York. Or maybe high waters will be totally unacceptable to wear for the fiancé of a Vogue columnist." Blaine sidesteps him to open one of the drawers.

"You were never fat. And this Vogue columnist's fiancé can always pull off tight-fitted capris."

"Oh my God, all my sunglasses," Blaine all but sobs, and turns around with a selection of his colourful sunglasses cradled in his hands.

"Honey…" Kurt scoops the sunglasses out of his hands, and places them in the suitcase on top of Blaine's folded capris. Then he takes Blaine's hands in his. "I'm going to remind you now of some of the things I know you love about fall. Scarves, Blaine, remember those?" he says teasingly, and Blaine bites his lip to hold back a smile. "And then all the hats, beanies and fedoras of yours, they fill an entire box in our storage. Don't tell me you haven't missed those."

Blaine huffs and rolls his eyes, and it's just such a Kurt-thing to do, and Kurt loves him a little more for picking up some of his traits. He knows he has adopted some Blaineisms during the years too.

"Then of course we have your gorgeous coats. Mmm, you know how sexy I find you in that navy duffle coat. It reminds me of when we were young and had just met."

"We're still young," Blaine objects, but his eyes are shining, and he's leaning closer to Kurt, their chests brushing against each other.

"Also, with a new season comes new clothes in the stores. Shopping, Blaine, we can go shopping! We're not poor students anymore, so we can actually enjoy the heavens on earth and introduce our wardrobe to some new friends."

"There's this gorgeous chunky sweater I pass each day on my way to work," Blaine admits.

"It's been calling your name, hasn't it, but you've ignored it while wearing short-sleeved polos?"

Blaine nods, and pouts a little for effect.

"Then of course we have the predictable, but still cherished, envelope from Carole with new knitted socks, and I seem to remember a certain someone who loves to slide across the floor on those socks while belting out the current ear-churner on the Billboard list."

"You love my impromptu performances," Blaine puts on a haughty tone.

"Yes, and you love my extra special spicy hot chocolate, and that is not a summer indulgence."

"I've missed that," Blaine moans.

"If you finish packing, I might be persuaded to run down to the grocery store and get the very secret ingredients for a preview sample of said hot chocolate."

"You once said you could only share the recipe with your husband."

"Then I guess you'll learn about the secret ingredient in May," Kurt bats his eyelashes.

"You forgot one thing," Blaine hums, and kisses Kurt's jaw. "This fall also means wedding preparations. We're going to have the most awesome wedding ever."

"I love you," Kurt murmurs.

"I love you too," Blaine exhales. "Now go make your fiancé a drink, and I'll haul this very heavy suitcase to the loft, and wear my butt off dragging the fall clothes back here."

"I better hurry then, because I wouldn't want to miss the look of bulging biceps and pert butt after such heavy exercise."

"Kurt," Blaine whines. "I don't want sex, I want hot chocolate."

"Already sick of our sex? We're not even married yet," Kurt chuckles, and grabs keys and wallet as he skips out. He'll enjoy the last rays of summer sun, before fall opens up a new world for them.


	3. 8 Harmony

**Prompt December 8th: Harmony.**

**Written quickly after a stroke of inspiration, no proof-reading or whatever, just getting it rushed off of my chest while eating breakfast. Sorry!**

**Spoilers/implicit mentioning of events from episode 5:15**

* * *

"What?" Kurt finally asks shortly. He can't stand it when Blaine looks at him that way. Oh, Blaine has plenty of looks he enjoys, or even craves. But this one? Ugh, he hates it.

"Nothing," Blaine shakes his head quickly, and tries to look convincing reading the magazine in Kurt's lap. He even scoots closer in his embrace, as if it'll pacify Kurt at this stage.

"Just spit it out, Blaine. You've been looking at me weirdly since page 7. I know you have something to ask, so get it out."

"I…"

Kurt levels him with one of his glares, and Blaine sighs.

"I was just wondering what your worst high school-memory was…"

"Harmony," Kurt shivers instantly. "What on earth made you think about high school?"

"We," Blaine swallows heavily, and Kurt drops the magazine to the floor, and turns more towards his fiancé. "We talked a lot about me after you came out of the hospital, and I started having _those_ nightmares again," he says, emphasizing to avoid being specific. "But we've really never talked about your high school-ghosts after we graduated. And it's not as if you didn't have a lot of shit happening to you, too…"

Kurt can't help the fond smile blooming across his face. Yet a reason why he's so madly in love with Blaine. Kurt may have been the one spending two nights in the hospital, but Blaine truly was the one suffering with the aftermath and some kind of PTSD. Still he has it in him to worry and care so much. He takes Blaine's hand, and brushes a kiss against his knuckles.

"A lot of awful and unfair things happened at McKinley, and it was hellish while it lasted. I was in a terrible place when I came to spy at Dalton, and I didn't realize how much I needed an ally. I needed someone like you," Kurt says tenderly, and cups Blaine's cheek. "But I'm lucky, I came out of it stronger, and I like to think I have a lot of good memories from my high school-career too."

"I like to think we would have met regardless," Blaine whispers, his breath whisking like soft air against Kurt's tender wrist.

"And I wouldn't have minded if we had first met when I was my usual confident, witty and strong self, and not some scared and helpless baby-gay," Kurt shrugs.

"Oh, the sass came out soon enough," Blaine guffaws. "I seem to remember someone talking about my numerous solos in the Blaine and the Pips-show."

"I wasn't wrong," Kurt grins wickedly.

"But you weren't exactly shy and withdrawn either."

"What can I say? You brought it out of me, having such a damn comfortable and safe presence."

"We got some good things out of high school," Blaine sighs contently, and sags further into Kurt's embrace.

"Except Harmony," Kurt groans again. "God, she was grating. The way she made Rachel and I feel after that mixer. I thought I knew ruthless confidence, but she made Rachel seem insecure and Santana soft spoken in comparison. And how she acted after Sectionals at McKinley… She was awful!"

"I like to think society has made such progress that our lesbian daughters never will be bullied for being gay by the time they're in high school. But I guess we can never completely protect them against all the Harmony's out there."

Kurt looks at him dumbly.

"What?" Blaine laughs.

"Honey, first of all, we're still in college, so kids are a long way down the road. Secondly… You do realize we could end up with straight kids?"

"And we will love them just the same," Blaine states swiftly.

"Unless they are Harmony-copies. Then we're putting them up for adoption."

"We'll see," Blaine laughs, and kisses Kurt's temple.

"You know that you're my _best_ high school-memory?" Kurt asks seriously.

"And you are going to be my best retirement memory."

"Sap."

"If we're lucky, I'll be just as demented as in _The Notebook_, and you'll have to remind me how we met and how I swept you off of your feet, each and every single morning," Blaine grins and nuzzles closer.

"As I said: Sap."


	4. 5 Evening

**Prompt December 5th: Evening**

* * *

Some surprises are better than other surprises, and when Blaine all but fell into his trailer after a long night of shooting, he was suddenly struck with an inability to articulate anything at the sight of Kurt draped leisurely across his couch, reading his script and sipping a coffee.

When you're filming in Hollywood, with the knowledge that your husband is working in New York, it can happen.

"I missed you," Kurt smiles in way of greeting, and gets up. Blaine isn't exaggerating when he almost collapses against his husband's sturdy body, and lets him hold him close, hold him tight, hold him.

"I love you," Blaine murmurs, because that he can say, always.

"Do you want to grab some breakfast, or do you want to sleep?" Kurt must have read his schedule, and seen that they filmed all night to get the right light and atmosphere for one of the big combat scenes. His body aches, even stage combat is exhausting after hours of running across a beach in a gang brawl.

He should try to stay awake, when his lovely husband flew out just to see him. But even his eyes ache.

"Coffee," Blaine decides on. It might help him enjoy a few hours with Kurt before he collapses. Fortunately, he has no filming today.

Wordlessly, Kurt hands him the rest of his coffee. It's a start.

They must look like quite the couple as they walk to the parking lot. Despite the flight, Kurt is walking with a spring to his steps, looking effortlessly chic in Blaine's favourite purple jeans, a black short-sleeved shirt open at the collar, a lovely broche, and sunglasses perched on top of his perfectly styled hair. He's draped his arm supportingly around Blaine's waist, who is dragging his feet towards his car, stubble scratching his wrist each time he takes a sip of Kurt's coffee, he fears he may have panda eyes after all the sweating, he has sand literally everywhere, and the yoga pants aren't meant for the public eye. It would be just his luck if they ran into the paparazzi today. Blaine doesn't consider himself a celebrity, but apparently his name has gotten some attention lately, especially after he accepted to take a break from Broadway to be Tony in a modernized film adaption of _West Side Story_.

He must have fallen asleep in the car, because he startles at the sound of the hotel's noisy garage, and how did he get here? Kurt opens the car door for him, and leads him to the elevator. It's so late in the morning that the breakfast rush is past them, and they can walk unseen to Blaine's hotel room.

"There's so much I'd like to do with you right now," Blaine murmurs heavily, and kisses Kurt's jaw.

"And I'd like to know why you have an evening gown on your bathroom door."

Blaine sighs, and rests his forehead against Kurt's chest.

"I'm not cheating on you with a girl," he sags tiredly.

"It didn't even cross my mind. But I'm wondering if you've taken up cross-dressing?" Kurt teases playfully, and runs a hand through his hair.

"There's this champagne and fancy finger food-event tonight, and an overzealous designer sent me the gown for my assumed date. Something about getting her name out there, bribing someone into wearing her on the red carpet, I guess."

Kurt kisses Blaine's forehead before letting go of him, and studies the dress critically.

"It's actually well executed. Not the most exciting design, but the right accessory could take it there. I do have the legs for that kind of split," he muses.

"Kurt, I know we're living the lives of our dreams, with performance highs, red carpet-events, fancy clothes, expensive champagne and admiration from crazy fans. And I would have gone to this thing if I was alone. Not in the evening gown, you clown," he interrupts himself when Kurt chuckles and looks pointedly between the dress and his husband. "But would you mind terribly much if we stayed in tonight, order sushi, find some bad porn on the pay-per-view and then prove how we are so much better at sex than the actors?"

"Take a shower with me, then we can nap, before putting your plans into reality."

"I love how you can fly across the country, and reject a glamorous occasion in favour of sleeping with me."

"I like sleeping with you. I'm awfully lonely in our bed back home. I also like _sleeping_ with you," Kurt whispers hotly in his air. "And tomorrow you should email the poor designer and explain how your date prefers kilts."


	5. 4 Dessert

**Thank you so much for reading this rushed drabbles, I do have a lot of fun writing them, even if I can't take my time to write them properly. I do love me some Christmas Countdown, though :)**

**Prompt December 4th: Dessert**

**Spoilers for seasons 4 and 5.**

* * *

Blaine may have gone a little overboard, when he booked them a table at the latest rave in the gourmet world, and insisted on six courses. But their fight had been of epic proportions, and Blaine had honestly thought Kurt would never want to see him again. It took almost a week from Kurt expelled him from the loft apartment, until he replied to one of Blaine's text. Even when his roommate Sam was sent as a messenger to the loft apartment, he'd been met with an icy glare and cold shoulder.

He's not even sure what the fight had been about. Rather, he knows Kurt blew up when Blaine happily told him how he had nailed an audition for a role at the NYADA spring extravaganza, and it turned out Kurt had auditioned too. Kurt had said things like Officer Krupke, second violin, seniority, unfair competition, terrible communication, worst boyfriend ever. Blaine may have said things like inevitable, supportive, selfish, proud boyfriend, awful listener. In hindsight, he knew they both were running on too much coffee, not enough sleep, choking amounts of stress throughout the finals before Christmas break, disappointment after several cancelled date nights from both sides and clashing ambitions.

After working so hard to gain Kurt's trust again, to forgive himself for Eli, and just recently beginning to feel as if their relationship had again established equilibrium, it had been a punch to the gut to realize he had somehow fucked up. Again. Sitting down with Kurt tonight was done with trepidation and excitement alike.

Over the hors d'oeuvre, Blaine apologized profusely for not involving Kurt in his plans, or realizing that they might both be interested in the same part.

Over the soup, Kurt admitted he had blown things out of proportion because he had been exhausted, and asked Blaine to forgive him.

Over the salmon, Blaine made them both promise to make each other and their relationship a priority, and make sure they spent time together even if it was to prepare for classes and finish papers.

Over the duck, Kurt made them both promise to talk more, but not kiss less, and never go to bed – even if the beds were in separate apartments – angry with each other.

Over the cheese, Blaine reassured Kurt that he would love him forever, just as fiercely and fearlessly as before. Kurt blushed, smiled and returned a shy "ditto".

Blaine assumed Kurt would want a slice of cheesecake for dessert, but decided to ask as the gentleman he strived to be, and in the spirit of their recent agreement to communicate better.

"No," Kurt said breathlessly, and his eyes were sparkling. "I want to go to your place."


	6. 10 Jukebox

**Prompt December 10th: Jukebox**

* * *

It's a heady rush to know he can play Blaine like an instrument. It's intoxication to realize that the touch of the fingertip really is that sexy, and can elicit a wide range of sounds from his wrecked boyfriend.

But it isn't merely Kurt's fingertips. With his lips or with his tongue, or his dick, he can pull out something, anything from Blaine's repertoire. When Kurt's lucky, or rather when he's good, a certain look is all it takes. Whatever the mood, Blaine always has the soundtrack. Kurt's body is the quarter he needs to play Blaine like a jukebox. He knows exactly which buttons to push, to make Blaine whimper, moan, sigh, hum, stutter, ramble on, go entirely silent, plead, beg, scream, and sometimes even swear, that dapper one. He knows how to get him there quickly, and he knows how to prolong it. He knows Blaine's symphonies and harmonies, he knows how to make him shine and glow, almost dancing in vibrant colours, in joy from creating their special music together.

The best thing, though, is that Blaine knows exactly how to treat Kurt like his jukebox too.


	7. 9 Imprint

**Prompt December 9th: Imprint**

* * *

Chances are, he'll always carry the scars with him. It's been years, and still he can see the lighter lines and cuts on his hip. If he squints, maybe they look like something from the Chinese alphabet. Regardless, they tell a story. The never-ending story of homophobia, the never-fading story of his life. He can't even take a shower without being retold what happened in his past. Which is ironic, considering how little he remembers of the _incident_, as Principal Johnson had named it.

He couldn't stand the thought of joining a team sport when he transferred to Dalton, so he took up fencing – less people to share a shower with, less questioning looks, less unasked questions.

It took time before he could stand being in front of a mirror. He got sick from his own reflection, having to face how battered and broken he looked, being reminded how awful the things he can't remember is, realizing someone can hate you enough to do this.

He couldn't let them win, though. They may have taken his body, but he could still reclaim his spirit.

Blaine opens the towel around his waist, and lets it drop to the floor, pool around his feet. With pride and joy, he looks straight into the mirror these days. He has fingermarks on his hips, a particularly colourful bruise along his hipbone, teeth marks on his inner thigh, and he's pretty sure his butt is still blushing red.

It's remarkable, how love can look so much better on his body.


	8. 13 Midnight

**I'm so happy for the feedback, and I'm glad I can contribute to your holiday preparations and countdown - or just cheer you up with a cute drabble.**

**This one is an alternative first meeting.**

**Prompt December 13th: Midnight**

* * *

10…

When Blaine graduates from Dalton Academy, his friends Wes and David had already been living in New York for a year, and recently kicked their roommate out for breeding hamsters in his bedroom. They disinfected it thoroughly, so Blaine could move in with them in time for his Freshman year at NYADA.

9…

The two older boys were invited to a supposedly awesome New Year's party, and convinced Blaine to tag along. He didn't expect to recognize anyone, it is a big city after all, so needless to say he was surprised when he noticed HIM there. Kurt Hummel, the most stunning young man in all of New York, and an incredible talented student at NYADA. He's a year over Blaine, so they haven't shared any classes this semester, but Blaine still knows of him. It's difficult not to notice the legend who won Midnight Madness just a few weeks after attending the school, when everyone is talking about him. He'd impressed Madame Tibideaux at the Winter Showcase, and he'd impressed Blaine when he'd surreptitiously watched a combat class through the window.

8…

It was an instant crush.

Ever after, Blaine saw him everywhere. In the halls, in the coffee house on campus, in an auditorium, in the library, even on the subway station.

He hasn't said a word to him, though.

7…

But he's spoken a lot of words _about_ him, to Wes and David. Gushed, really. And of course they understood something was going on when they saw Blaine's reaction, his blush and sudden stutter. Being the amazing friends they are, they solemnly swore to shave Blaine's curls off in his sleep if he didn't man up and introduce himself to Kurt before this year turned into a new year.

6…

Blaine's been tormenting himself throughout the entire night, trying to find the perfect opening sentence. Wes is pointedly and exaggeratedly looking at his wristwatch, and Blaine's hands are buried deep in his pants, clutching his pocket watch.

5…

He still doesn't know what to say, but he doesn't trust his roommates to stay away from his hair. So while the entire room is counting down, he walks across the floor, among couples and pairs, hoping Kurt won't suddenly be smooching with some hot guy.

4…

But there he is, holding a plastic tiara in one hand, a flute in the other, and talking with a girl Blaine recognizes as Rachel Berry. He can't let her stop him, though, so he approaches him carefully, trying to make eye contact.

3…

"Excuse me, but I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Blaine Anderson."

Kurt's eyes light up as if he recognizes him

"There you are! I've been looking for you forever!"

It turns out, Kurt had noticed him too, but not managed to corner him during a hectic school schedule yet.

Blaine didn't see how Rachel grinned knowingly, before walking away.

2…

"I'm Kurt Hummel," he continues with a shy smile, as if he doesn't realize how famous he is in school.

"I'm so glad to finally talk with you," Blaine gushes, and extends a hand to shake. Their hands touch, and they both feel the sparks, they both look oddly at their linked hands, they both look in the other's eyes with awe.

1…

It may be the champagne taking control of his body, but without thinking Blaine lifts Kurt's hand and plants a soft kiss to his knuckles.

Around them, there's a muted chaos of cheers and hurrahs, as the clock strikes midnight.


	9. 15 Occasion

**Well, hello there, Writing Muse who hijacked my keyboard entirely and demanded that this thing be written..**

**Prompt December 15th: Occasion**

**This is a future fic, sticking to canon as far as I know.  
**

* * *

Kurt had told his boss he'd be working from home today, but it honestly meant he'd be keeping a quarter of an eye on his email, have his phone on him, but get errands and house cleaning done. He doesn't even feel guilty about it. He's put down so many bonus hours, and walked the extra mile repeatedly, he deserves one lazy day. Rather, one busy day ignoring his work.

He starts the day by changing the sheets on their bed and running a load of laundry. He cleans the bedroom, places candles on shelves and nightstands for later, and adds two new pillows he bought the other day. They're mostly for decoration purposes, and Blaine will probably swallow a comment about how they already need to extricate their bed from under all of Kurt's pillows. But sometimes he just likes to lie comfortable in a pile of soft. Sometimes he needs to hold something close to his chest, when Blaine is touring. And on some particularly intense nights, he needs something to bite, so he doesn't wake anyone up…

After preparing the bedroom, he goes to the market to pick up ingredients for tonight's dinner, and a coffee on his way home to help him keep up the energy. He's not 16 anymore, that's for sure. Blaine had a minor breakdown last year, two days before he turned 30, when he all of a sudden was _old_ and _outdated_. Kurt comforted him, reminding him of Mick Jagger, Elton John, Bryan Ferry and Robbie Williams – four dashingly handsome men still owning whatever stage they enter in crowded concert arenas. It somehow ended in messy kitchen sex, like the teenagers they once were.

Back home, Kurt has to reply to a couple of work related emails, before he can set the table. He polishes the wine glasses until they sparkle, and he takes the time for some napkin origami. Fresh flowers make the center piece, before he sets the table with everything they need for the three courses he's preparing – a crisp salad, steak - because it's Blaine's favourite - with baked potatoes, vegetables and a red wine-sauce, and Kurt's own cheesecake which Blaine fell in love with right after he fell in love with Kurt.

It takes time to get everything ready, but by the time Blaine should be home, the house is clean, at least 20 candles are lit in the dining room, the spots are dimmed, gentle piano music is tinkling in the background, the wine is aired, and a mix of scents makes Kurt almost drool. Margaret Thatcher is literally drooling, though, and has been kicked out of the kitchen twice. It's important to know that she is not Kurt's dog. Maggie is Blaine's sole responsibility. Well, she isn't entirely awful. But Kurt could go without dog hair in their bed, even if Blaine insists he never lets her sleep there when Kurt's away. Maggie is so spoilt she doesn't ask for permission, but does whatever she wants regardless.

"Honey, I'm home!" Blaine says jokingly from the entry, and Kurt hears the familiar sounds of Blaine's keys landing in the bowl on the shelf, and the squeaky hinges on the wardrobe as Blaine gets out of his coat and scarf. He walks over to him, so he's certain everything will work out as planned.

"Hi you," Blaine beams, and wraps an arm around Kurt's waist to pull him in for a kiss. The other arm is still covered by a coat sleeve.

"Hello there," Kurt murmurs. "Good day at the office?"

Even if Blaine is a recording artist, he has an office where he helps young, aspiring musicians getting started, and he goes there to write music instead of being distracted at home. Sometimes inspiration strikes wherever, but other times he can sit down and work determinedly to get a new song out of his creative mind.

"Mmm, I'm always glad to be in my office, because it means I get to come home to you," Blaine grins against his lips.

"Cheesy!" Kurt scolds, faux appalled. He loves it, though. He loves him. He loves that after so many years, Blaine can still bring out the highschoolers they once were.

"Gosh, something smells great. I'm starving," Blaine comments, sniffing the air as if he was related to Margaret Thatcher, sitting by his feet and waiting to be acknowledged.

"Dinner is all ready," Kurt says, and takes Blaine's hand in his, leading him towards the dinner table.

"Where's Lizzy?" Blaine wonders.

"She's staying the night at Elliot's." Kurt made sure to ask Elliott to take care of their five-year-old three weeks ago, when he started planning this night. She's his goddaughter, after all, and Elliott had happily said Starchild might have a surprise for Stardust. It was enough to make Kurt reconsider his plans, but at least it was easy to wash out the black hairspray after the last time Starchild and Stardust performed something exclusive for Benjamin; Elliott's boyfriend and soon-to-be-fiancé - if only Elliott could work up the nerve. Kurt suspects Benjamin might beat him to it, though.

Kurt pulls out the chair for Blaine, and kisses his temple as he leaves him to retrieve their salads.

"I'm… I'm a little confused," Blaine admits worriedly when Kurt joins him by the table. "I don't remember anything connected to today's date. What's the occasion?"

Kurt had taken time to find the right date for this. He didn't want Blaine to think of any kind of anniversary or jubilee or prior event on this date. He wanted a plain, average, uneventful day with no association to anything. He wanted a clean slate, a white sheet of paper, no history or background. Blaine has a habit of remembering all too well and making an occasion of almost everything, finding all the reasons he can dig up to celebrate. The date for when they first met, when they performed _Candles_ publicly, when they first kissed, when Kurt transferred to McKinley, when Blaine transferred to McKinley, the slushie, their first time, their first I love you's, their first hook-up with each other, the proposal, and so on and so on. And don't get him started on all the reasons to celebrate after they started planning Lizzy…

"No occasion. I just love you," Kurt says easily.

Blaine, who gets up before Kurt on Sundays to make them all breakfast. Blaine, who vacuums every night because he knows Maggie's shedding could annoy Kurt. Blaine, who brings home flowers if Kurt's had a long day at work. Blaine, who randomly pops by Kurt's office with coffee. Blaine, who always offers to get up when Lizzy is sick or have nightmares, because he can adjust his work hours and Kurt can't. Blaine, who watches football with Burt avidly whenever they are in the same room, but never when he's alone with Kurt. Blaine, who does so much for Kurt, and showers him in love every single day. If that's not a special occasion in itself, then Kurt doesn't know what is.

Blaine smiles softly at him, and reaches out a hand for him over the table.

"I love you, too."


	10. 16 Please

**Something I wrote in a rush, to try something new in my writing. It could have been better, longer and again better, but this is what I managed to write while wolfing down dinner, and now I have places to be :p**

**Prompt December 16th: Please**

**Don't know if I need to warn against it, but one paragraph is alluding to young men having sex.**

* * *

"Please?" Blaine bats his eyelashes, and Kurt relents. He texts his that Dad he won't be home for dinner, and mentally prepares for a late night doing his own homework in chemistry, after tutoring Blaine in French. Being in love makes you do anything, apparently.

"Please?" Kurt begs sweetly, taking Blaine's hands in his. He doesn't want to spend his Senior year with his boyfriend at Dalton.

"Please…" Blaine's sentence fades out as Kurt talks to someone in the background, waves a rushed goodbye at him and logs off Skype.

"Please!" Kurt says with a warning to his voice, and even holds a hand up as if he needs to physically push Blaine away. Blaine nods wordlessly, and turns around to Sugar, waiting for him in her Frenchy-costume.

"Please?" Blaine asks hesitantly, and locks his mom's Prius. Kurt rolls his eyes, but indulges him and helps adjust his tie. He messed it up in the first place, anyway.

"Puh-lease!" Kurt scoffs, popping the P as if it has offended him almost as badly as Blaine has by claiming he could organize just as amazing a wedding as Kurt is doing.

"Please?" Kurt cries, tears rolling down his cheeks. But Blaine can't promise that his cold feet are merely temporary. He sleeps at Sam's place the next three nights.

"Please," Blaine sighs in relief, and uses his foot to pull out the chair for Kurt across of him. He didn't know if he'd come to the coffee house. He didn't know if he'd give Blaine the chance to explain himself. But he did.

"Please," Blaine whispers breathily, and tries to lift his hips or tilt his pelvis closer to Kurt, closer to anything that'll cause the friction he's so desperate for.

"Yes, please," Blaine murmurs emotionally to the justice of peace, looking in awe at Kurt, who just gave his "I do".


	11. 14 Needle

**I have had terrible back pains the last days, so I needed to write myself a fairly fluffy alternative first meeting.**

**Prompt December 14th: Needle**

* * *

Blaine twists and turns in the dressing cubicle, and waves his arms like some kind of helicopter to see if the suit can stand some dancing.

"Excuse me, is everything okay?" a gentle voice asks through the curtain. Blaine recognizes it as belonging to the young man who assisted him in picking out this particular suit. It may have been his eyes and his ass more than his compelling description and arguments that convinced Blaine to try it on. But it actually fits him well, except for one small thing.

Blaine pulls the curtain to the side, and smiles at the gorgeous sales assistant.

"I love it, I really do. But it needs hemming, I'm afraid," Blaine smiles shyly, and tugs at the slightly too long legs.

"That's not a problem; we offer that as part of our service. Let me do measurements, and you can pick this beautiful suit up in two days." He's already halfway down by Blaine's feet.

"I actually need it tonight, for an unexpected event I was invited to," Blaine says apologetically. Carmen Tibideaux invited – which means summoned – him to perform at a dinner for teachers and head staff tonight.

"Oh," the young man blushes, and looks up and down Blaine's legs from the floor. He looks behind him, towards the rest of the shop. "It's a quiet afternoon; I could try to do it now. I can't leave and use the sewing machine in the back, but if you don't mind hand-sewing I can do it in here," he says, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as if he's nervous. He must be new in this job, Blaine muses.

"That's generous of you. Thank you."

Blaine stands still, hardly breathing, while the kneeling man folds the hems, securing them with pins.

"Like this?" he asks, leaning back on his haunches, and Blaine spins in front of the mirror.

"Perfect," he beams, and the man nods satisfied.

When he's standing up again, he looks pointedly at Blaine.

"I'll need the pants, then."

"Oh! Oh, of course," Blaine says flustered, and fiddles with the fly in front of the employee.

"So I'll just be waiting over there," he says with a shrill voice, and turns abruptly. It makes Blaine realize what he's doing, and flushed he backs into the cubicle again, where he changes back to his own clothes.

He finds the helpful salesman by the register, and hands him the suit. The man has already found needle and thread, and sits down on a tall stool

"It's a really good suit, so I hope you'll get to wear it again, and not just tonight."

"We'll see," Blaine ducks his head. "If it's up to me, I'll happily wear it repeatedly. It's a stunning fabric, and I love the cut."

"It'll make you stand out even more," the man comments, a fierce blush covering his cheek bones, and he starts working on the right leg.

"I'll be on a stage, so I think I'll garner some attention regardless," Blaine chuckles.

"Oh, so you're a performer?"

"Ask me again in six months or so, when I've graduated, to find out if I'm a poor, struggling unemployed artist, or if I'm happily working my ass off with my first project," Blaine grins.

"And on what kind of stage would I see you?"

"Hopefully Broadway," Blaine admits bashfully. It still feels like such a pipe dream, something a naïve teenager salivates over until he gets a reality check. But he's been doing well at NYADA so far, and some of his teachers have already promised him glowing recommendations and namedropping within their networks.

"Wow, that's really great! I'll be looking out for your name, then. Which is…?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson," he introduces himself, and extends a hand. The other man shakes it, and gives him his name.

The name Kurt Hummel rings a bell, but he can't quite connect the dots.

"You're good at that," Blaine comments, watching Kurt's deft fingers fix his pants in no time.

"It would be a waste of money if four years at Parsons didn't teach me at least some basic hemming," the boy snorts.

Blaine prevents himself from commenting how four years at _Parsons_ made him a sales assistant, because that would be considered an insult, and it really isn't his business to judge people's career choices. Besides, if he might be a struggling artist come graduation, who says Kurt can't be a struggling whatnots?

His name still sounds familiar, though.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," the young man says more softly, gazing briefly at Blaine before looking down at his pants again.

"No, not at all. My comment was lame. I'm just terrible with…" _Small talk_, his brain suggests. "Flirting," his lips executes.

The other man looks at him, looking startled.

"Is that what you were doing?" he asks, sounding… excited?

"Case in point. I don't think it's considered smooth if I have to tell someone what I'm trying to do…"

Kurt laughs thrillingly at him.

"It's a good thing you're cute, and can get away with it," he winks.

"That was a good line," Blaine comments, and scratches his neck in embarrassment.

"It's more than just a line," Kurt smiles, and somehow manages to look at him through his eyelashes from below, even while sitting on the tall stool. Blaine takes a hold of the counter to make sure he can stay up on his feet. Silly weak knees.

Kurt opens two different drawers, and frowns when he can't find what he's looking for. He ends up cutting the thread with his teeth, and it helps create images in Blaine's head of better things that mouth could do. He watches Kurt fold the suit carefully, all the while throwing quick glances accompanied by a smile at him, before he tucks the suit in a garment bag, and rings up the register. Blaine gives him his card, and has no idea how much the suit cost him.

"You know, this would be a good time to ask for my number," Kurt grins, and Blaine could hit himself.

"Umm, do you think… Is there a chance… Would you mind…"

"Look at the receipt," Kurt leans over the counter, one hand held next to his mouth, to stage whisper.

He gets out the papers he shoved into his pockets, and among the long, folded receipt, he finds a business card. Kurt E. Hummel, Slushie Designs.

And then Blaine remembers an article in Vogue from last year, about one of their own part time employers, who would be graduating from Parsons, but already got his designs acknowledged and showcased on a few New York runways. Blaine took the story to his heart, when he learned that the designer had been bullied in high school for being gay, and how slushies had been a part of the torment. But in New York he found a new life and a new beginning, and he'd turned his background into bright, colourful and bold designs.

"Oh shit," Blaine gulps. "You're Kurt Hummel."

"I thought we had already established that?" he smiles confused.

"You are _the_ Kurt Hummel."

"And you must be _the_ Blaine Anderson from NYADA," Kurt rolls his eyes, and at Blaine's confused expression he continues. "My friend is Rachel Berry?"

Blaine nods, because that explains everything.

"Promise you'll call. Otherwise I'll have to sic Rachel back to her roots, to get your number for me," he winks. "And nobody wants that, really."

Blaine nods dumbly, and tucks the card carefully in his other pocket.

"I'll call," he promises shakily. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Kurt singsongs, and if this was some kind of musical, they would probably burst into the Annie-song, and then maybe fade into a Sound of Music-song.

Blaine walks backwards out of the store, and waves at him with a huge grin, made even bigger by how Kurt waves back.


	12. 1 Ache

**This is set some time around episode 2:11 "The Sue Sylvester Shufffle".**

**Prompt December 1st: Ache**

* * *

They said it was routine, nothing to worry about. It did nothing to quell Kurt's heartache, though.

The four of them had been sitting down for Friday night dinner, when his dad had put a hand up to his chest.

"Must have been the spicey tacos," he joked, but Carole had called for an ambulance. It still feels as if it was only yesterday they were summoned to the hospital after his heart attack, it still feels as if it is merely hours since he was discharged and could go home. Even if Kurt offered, demanded really, to be the event organizer, he knows preparing the wedding was stressful for both Burt and Carole. Learning about Kurt's bullying wasn't exactly helping his heart either, or the necessary but difficult decision to transfer Kurt to Dalton.

They said it was routine to keep him over the night, check his heart rhythm and make sure everything was okay. But everything isn't okay.

Carole is sitting with him now. Kurt had to get out. The dry air was choking him, all the hospital smells got to him, and he couldn't help thinking about his dad in a recent coma, and how he just needs a break from everything bad already. This time he isn't doing it alone, though. Finn's out looking for some decent food for the three of them. With the aborted dinner, they were all kinds of hungry, even if it isn't the most prominent conscious thought.

Kurt initially went outside for fresh air, but he forgot his jacket in his dad's room, and eventually had to escape inside again. He sat down in the waiting area, restlessly flipping from one page to the other in a random magazine left on the table. There's a big sign declaring mobile phones are forbidden, otherwise he would have whipped it out to call someone, talk with someone, feel less lonely and scared. There's an ache in his stomach, gnawing at his intestines, and he could cry blood if he wasn't so numb.

"Kurt?"

He looks up startled at the sound of his name, and his eyes land on the last person he expected to see her, but the first person he would have called if he could.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asks confused, and for a brief moment wonders if Finn called him? Or if Finn told Rachel, who told Mercedes, who knows what Kurt is feeling about the boy, and called Blaine?

"I had to drive Nick and what might have been a broken hand," Blaine chew his lip.

"Oh my God, what happened, is he okay?" Kurt clears away the magazines and old newspapers next to him, and Blaine sits down on the couch next to him.

"We were goofing around with _Misery_, and somehow it turned into a competition of who could knock the loudest on a table," Blaine says sheepishly. "He's in x-ray now, and I was told to wait here and stop fussing…"

Kurt smiles, because he can easily imagine Blaine fussing over Nick, and maybe somehow feeling responsible or even guilty.

"So, why are you here?" Blaine asks concerned, and rests a hand on Kurt's knee.

"My dad," Kurt begins, and chokes on his own voice.

Blaine shuffles closer, and alone in the waiting room he wraps an arm around him. Kurt dares to rest his head on this amazing boy's shoulder. He doesn't say anything, no invalid reassurances, but just holds him, his chin on top of Kurt's head.

The fist of ache in Kurt's stomach loosens a little, and he can breathe more easily.


	13. 2 Balance

**I wish you all a Merry Christmas, or other appropriate season greetings!**

**This is another alternative first meeting.**

**Prompt December 2nd: Balance**

* * *

He may not be a New Yorker, but after living for a year in the city, he likes to think he's pretty damn close. Everything was new and different in the beginning, but now he moves around in the city with an expertise that speaks of experience and familiarity.

While the boy standing next to him in the subway reveals how he's the new kid in town, with how he's clutching to the pole and trying to force his body to move against the rhythm of the train.

It's rush hour, if there can be said to be more hectic times of the day on the subway. Not a seat is free, and most people have that "just got off work and it sucked my soul out"-expression on their faces.

On the next station, among the crowd embarking the train is a pregnant woman. She's probably late in her second trimester, Kurt guesses by comparing her to what he remembers of Quinn's pregnancy. She's sufficiently pregnant to look tired, but not enough for anyone to offer her their seat. So the boy next to Kurt softly addresses the woman (doesn't he know that strangers don't talk to each other on the subway?), and offers her his pole. Like an amateur gentleman, he gives her the entire pole. Two people could easily have held on to it, but he lets go completely, stepping closer to Kurt go give her space. It's something entirely endearing about the gesture, a random act of kindness not often displayed in public.

The train starts moving with a jerk, and Kurt lets his body sway with the motion, having broken that code months ago. But the NKOTB-gentleman isn't prepared, and stumbles backwards. Without thinking, Kurt catches him, and brackets his arms around his body, holding him against his chest.

"Thank you," the boy whispers flustered, and pats one of Kurt's hands to signal he can let go. He turns around, and there are only two thoughts present in Kurt's mind.

This is the hottest guy he's ever put his hands on.

He wants to do it again, but preferably with less clothes.

Moving to New York meant a new beginning, and at least it's been an improvement to Lima, with dating Adam for a couple of months until it didn't work out, a couple of blind dates organized by his two roommates, and also a few dates he was asked out to himself, but never lead to more than heated kissing and some dancing he'd rather not do in front of his parents.

Screw it, he thinks, after all; he talked to the pregnant lady, even if she was a stranger.

"My pleasure," Kurt murmurs, trying to make it sound as loaded as he wants it to be.

The boy blushes, but extends a hand, and oh, what a polite and charming stranger, not like anyone Kurt's ever met.

"Blaine Anderson," he introduces himself with a soft voice, looking him shyly in his eyes, and Kurt willingly gives him his name too. "I guess I lost my balance there," he mutters, and rolls his eyes self-deprecatingly, blush still staining his cheeks.

"It happens to the best," Kurt says, although it's been some time since he's been among those. Channeling his inner bold and flirtatious Puck, he continues: "May I buy you a coffee? It does wonders to restore equilibrium."

Blaine looks at him, obviously surprised, but also pleased judging by the smile growing slowly across his face.

"Yes, you may."


End file.
